Out of Time, page 15
Before even unpacking his bags, Berny sat down at his desk to sort his notes. He had made up his mind. He was going to turn out a complete report; it was going to be precise, factual and as complete as possible. He would first submit it to Professor Holmes who was Director General of the Research Institute. Holmes, he knew, would believe him but even if he advised against it as too fantastic, Berny’s mind was made up: he would publish his report, even if he had to go round to the local paper to get it into print. He stopped to examine the photograph of Mary Miles. Getting up, he reached for a frame on a bookshelf, took out of it an old photograph of his mother and slipped in that of Mary; instead of putting the frame back on the shelf, however, he put it over the television set in the opposite corner of the room. Glancing at his watch, he switched on and a minute later, before even the screen lit up, he knew by the screech of tyres, police sirens and pistol shots that yet another gangster film was going through. Turning the sound down, he went back to his notes.
He must have worked quite a long time for, when he yawned and turned his head, Mary was there, on the screen, talking to him.
“Mary!” he gasped, jumping up and turning the sound full on.
“…not want you to.”
“PLEASE REPEAT,” he typed rapidly.
“We know that you are preparing a report about us but we beg you not to.”
“MARY, I KNOW IT IS ALL TRUE. WHERE ARE THE OTHERS?”
“They do not wish to appear any more. It is harmful and…two of…of our friends were destroyed last time.”
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”
“No, but will you please promise not to make that report?”
- “WHY?” scribbled Berny with his pencil.
“It was decided by others. Even if we could return, we do not wish it, and the majority voted against any further communications with…with people on Earth.”
Berny again held up the piece of paper on which he had written: “WHY?”
“Humans…people on Earth are bad.”
He took down her photograph and showed it to her. “Yes, I know,” said Mary with a smile, “I was there.”
“Mary! Did you follow me around?”
“I cannot hear you…Berny.”
He typed the question and showed it to her.
“Yes. We go where we wish quite easily and I happened to be in Hull when you turned up.”
“MARY, ARE YOU HAPPY?” he typed.
“It is so different…so different. Yes, Berny, but it is a happiness which you cannot understand.”
“HOW DO YOU LIVE? WHAT DO YOU DO?”
“It is impossible to explain. You see, all the things that are simple and that mean something to you simply do not exist here. For instance, we have no shape, we just are.” “HOW CAN YOU SEE EACH OTHER THEN?”
“We don’t, we know, and it is so much better. How can I explain? When you look at me, you only see my face. When we meet—and even without having to meet—we do not see but we know everything inside and outside people. I mean that if all we know of people could be translated into seeing, it would be as though you could see a person all at once and from all angles and inside as well.”
. “CAN YOU READ EACH OTHER’S THOUGHTS?”
“No, I don’t mean that…though we do not have to read each other’s thoughts. We are simply aware of them.” “HOW DO YOU COMMUNICATE THEN?”
“We never have to. We know but…you cannot understand.”
“I COULD TRY.”
“Yes, Berny but…I guess I cannot explain, that is all.”
“DO YOU SEE US AND READ OUR THOUGHTS IN THE SAME WAY?”
“No, because you are only three dimensional, but we can be among you, watch you and listen to you.”
“WHY CAN’T YOU HEAR ME NOW THEN?”
“Because, so that you can see and hear me, I have to get myself, my atoms shall we say, through your cathode tube, I believe it is called.”
“HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME, MARY?”
“I think I know all about you, Berny. I have been with you an awful lot, especially since you visited my aunt in Hull.”
He blushed, hesitated and typed: “I SUPPOSE YOU KNOW THAT I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.”
“Yes, Berny. As a matter of fact, I knew before you did, I think.”
“DO YOU ALSO KNOW THE FUTURE?”
“Not in the way you know it, I guess.”
“DO YOU CARE FOR ME, MARY?”
“Yes…but in a very different way.”
“THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE WAY.”
“Oh. no!” she laughed, “but, there again, you could not possibly understand.”
“BUT YOU DO CARE FOR ME.”
“Yes. To be quite honest, by…by your standards, I…I suppose I also am in love, Berny.”
“I WISH I COULD GET IN THERE WITH YOU.”
“It wouldn’t mean a thing to you, Berny. I assure you it is quite impossible to kiss what is not, what you are yourself and what is another all at once. But I had better be going. Is it getting late? In here we no longer feel time, so it exists again.”
Yes, nodded Berny, showing her his watch.
“My! it is late. Good night, Berny. Bless you,” she said, blowing him a kiss and sliding off the screen that flickered white and silent.
For the rest of the night, Bernard Marsden sat up working and thinking, and typing, and the typing included a three page letter for Mary Miles.
The next day, instead of working at his report, he went to his local electricians and purchased a microphone. Back home, he mounted the microphone in such a way that, when speaking into it, the voice came through his television loudspeaker. In a separate typewritten note, he explained that he thus hoped that Mary would hear him and so do away with all the laborious typing of whatever he wished to say. This he carefully hung up with his three page letter in front of the screen and, late that night, when the local programme ended, he did not switch off, hoping that Mary would come through.
He was in the kitchen getting some milk and biscuits when he heard her calling:
“Berny! Please don’t use that microphone yet. I am afraid it might have a similar effect to a telecast coming on. It might be dangerous, don’t you think?”
Realizing that she might be right and terrified at the possibility of the telephone ringing close by, Berny slammed the door of the refrigerator and rushed back to disconnect the microphone.
“Berny! It works, it works beautifully!” said Mary excitedly, “I distinctly heard that door slam and it did not hurt me. Try saving something…softly, just in case.” Trembling like a leaf, Berny whispered:
“Mary, I love you.”
“Thank you, Berny. I knew that. I also know all that you have typed because, you see, as soon as I return to my other state, I stay with you and can therefore see all you do.”
“And you were watching over my shoulder as I typed?”
“No, not exactly. I was all at once in your fingers, in the papers on which you were typing…but how can you understand!”
“What I do understand, Mary, is that you love me…and we have got to do something about it.”
“Do what?”
“Hang it, dear! You’re not a ghost. You’re alive, very much alive! The proof is that you can appear on a television screen and talk and discuss intelligently. It therefore boils down to-this: you are alive, so there is hope.”
“What hope, Berny?”
“I don’t know, but if an atom bomb put you where you are, intact, we must find a way of reversing the process. And that is why I must report all this immediately so that the best heads can get to work on the problem.”
“Berny, you are a dear…but it is quite impossible,” said Mary, and he gulped when he noticed that her eyes -were full of tears.
“Mary, there must be a way of…of saving you!”
“We don’t need saving, Berny, and the others don’t want it.”
“I am going to talk it over with Professor Holmes. He is my boss…”
“I know, but you mustn’t.”
“Don’t worry, dear.”
“I do worry. You promised…
“Mary, I must save you!”
“Berny, if you so much as breathe a word to anyone, you’ll never see me again.”
“How can you say such a thing!”
“It’s up to you, Berny. I’ll be here tomorrow night if your secret is still a secret. Otherwise…you will switch on in vain.”
“Marv! Wait a minute…”
“Remember, I’ll be with you and watching you, dear.”
“No! Don’t go yet…but her smiling picture had disappeared.
He was twice on the point of picking up the telephone to call Professor Holmes the following day. Each time, however, the feeling that Mary was watching and listening somewhere near him made him hesitate and desist. She did not appear that night, nor the next. On the third night, almost as soon as the local programme ended, she appeared, holding what looked like a shawl to the side of her face.
“Mary! What’s the matter? Look at me!” said Berny coming up to the screen.
“Berny, dear…I shouldn’t have come. It is beginning to affect me and it is feared that if I continue, I shall gradually disaggregate.”
“Oh, darling! How does it affect you? Show me your face.”
“I would rather you remember me as the Mary of the photograph. I must go now, Berny. You understand, don’t you? And, remember, I shall be with you because, by earthly standards at least, I do love you, dear.”
“But, Mary, wait! How are we going to communicate?”
“I shall be with you, Berny. If I stay longer, it will be a very different sort of separation. Remember, I am not dead. Goodbye, my…goodbye, Berny.” And as he bent down over the screen, she came close up, kissed it and faded out.
Bernard Marsden let his work slide a good deal during the next few weeks, so much so that it was noticed and Professor Holmes called him into his office and asked him if he had any trouble.
“Yes and no, sir. I’m…I’m working on a report…something quite new and…”
“I see. Well, don’t kill yourself, Marsden, and let me know when it is ready. I’ll be glad to read it.”
He had had Mary’s photograph copied and attached a print to his report which was now complete. He read it over carefully, hesitated almost a week longer and, having finally made up his mind, typed out a note for Mary. He had once or twice tried talking aloud and though he felt that she was probably around, listening, he had not been able to go on. He read over his note:
“Mary, I am going to attempt to get you back. To do that, I have to get the best thinkers to help me and that is why, as I suppose you know, I am starting with a full report on the whole thing. I know that you do not approve but I know that you understand and, who knows, perhaps some day you will be glad.”
He signed it and left it in evidence on top of his desk. Now that he had come to a decision, he felt strangely relieved and, for the first time in months it seemed, he felt so hungry that he decided to dine out. Just as he reached for his hat and coat, his telephone buzzed.
“Yes, this is Doctor Marsden speaking,” he answered.
“My name is Perkins, Doctor. I just found your ’phone number in the directory. Were you listening to the radio just now?”
“No. I am sorry but I have no time…”
“Hold it, Doctor, this isn’t a gallup. I heard a message for you.”
“What sort of message?”
“It came through as an urgent call between the sports and the symphony concert.”
“How do you know it was for me? What was the message?”
“Oh very short, just to the effect that Doctor Marsden .of Ray Falls should call nurse Miles without fail tonight.”
“Who said it?”
“I don’t know, the announcer I guess.”
“Man or woman?”
“Hell, Doctor, I’m not fooling. Why don’t you ring up the station? They should be able to give you all the information. I just tried to be helpful.”
“And I am extremely grateful. Thank you very much indeed.”
He had just put the receiver down, when it buzzed again.
“Doctor Marsden? There was a message for you over the radio five minutes ago.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you very much,” said Berny, hanging up and, as the ’phone again started buzzing, he disconnected it, put on his hat and coat and walked out. A police car pulled up at the edge of the curb.
“Are you Doctor Marsden?” asked a policeman, getting out and flashing a torch on him as he turned.
“Yes, why?”
“There was an urgent radio call for you and we have had a number of calls from people who heard it.”
“Thank you, Officer. I got it and will attend to it.” “Okay. Any place we can rush you, Doctor?” “No, thank you very much. It is not that urgent.” Berny knew that he would see Mary that night. He wondered to what extent she was really free. In any case, his mind was made up. Waiting any more would not help and the only feasible thing was to try to do something, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
Berny switched on his television set at eleven-thirty and sat patiently through the end of a film, the late news, a final weather forecast and a last goodnight. It was almost an hour later that the light on the screen flickered and he found himself looking at a bald-headed man he had never seen before.
“Doctor Marsden, I volunteered to appear here and was accepted because I speak English.”
“Where is Miss Miles? Why hasn’t she come?”
“Simply because her coming here again might well prove fatal.”
“And it is not fatal for you.”
“It could be if I stayed a long time or if I came often. It is as dangerous for us as radioactivity can be for you. I have therefore little time and I beg of you to listen carefully.”
“Is Miss Miles all right?”
“Yes, you can be1 reassured—we are not worried about her so long as she does not expose herself again.”
“Can I talk to her, even without seeing her?”
“No, and please do not interrupt me any more. What I have to say is important and my time is nearly up.”
“Right. Go ahead.”
“Miss Miles has told us about your plans and we object.
We object for two reasons: first, we do not wish to go back to our previous form of life and, secondly, any experiments you might undertake could be extremely dangerous.”
“What does Miss Miles have to say about that?”
“You promised not to interrupt, Dr. Marsden. Yes, Miss Miles agrees with us. We know and warn you that you cannot possibly succeed but we are quite honestly afraid of some of your possible experiments. We have therefore decided to offer you something in exchange for your silence. You can come to us without too much difficulty if you wish. And, in this connection, I am instructed by Miss Miles to say that, though she begs you to stay in your present form, if you do decide to come she will not shun you.”
“Will she…marry me?” “
“If you wish, yes, but that means nothing. You cannot understand.”
“How can I join you?”
“For you it should be relatively easy. Just stand in the full blast of an atomic explosion. Though you are not directly concerned with armaments, you can probably arrange to take part in some future test”
“Ridiculous!” snorted Berny.
“Yes, perhaps. Well, I must go because my safety time is up. Unfortunately, time counts when we appear like this. Let Miss Miles know if and when you make up your mind and we will of course arrange for her to meet you.”
“Hey! Wait a minute!” shouted Berny, but the man had vanished.
Marsden was not the sort of man who would commit suicide but then this would not really be suicide since he would merely undergo a transformation that did not in any way resemble that of death. In any case, no one depended on him and his disappearance would not mean anything or cause any serious trouble. Having reasoned that far, Berny began to wonder how really difficult it would be for him to get into the experimental side of atomic explosions and, from then on, he was doomed.
He soon discovered that security precautions were such that getting left within range of a bomb was practically impossible. Setting one off accidentally was, it seemed, even more difficult; that idea he promptly discarded in any case because it might and probably would endanger a good many lives. It was by no means as easy as the messenger had seemed to think. Then, one morning, he found a way. By glancing at some notes that had been accidentally put in his tray at the Research Institute, he learned that one of his colleagues, Professor Brendon, was about to test an A-grenade. This was a hand grenade which, according to its inventor, would create a minute nuclear explosion that would “thoroughly destroy everything within a limited range of thirty feet”. It also had the advantage of having no fallout and within a matter of seconds, it was possible to occupy the terrain on which it had exploded without any risk of radiation. Unlike ordinary grenades, it had no time-fuse detonator. Once the safety pin was removed, any shock in excess of four pounds would detonate it.
Berny knew that if he showed too much interest in Professor Brendon’s work, the security rules of the Institute were such that, not only would he be questioned but a new security check would be automatically made and, for all he knew, would reveal his secret. They would be sure to find out about his trip to Hull, after which the rest would become almost automatic. Having carefully thought it over, he roughed out a report on the possibilities of a very limited nuclear explosion, something that could easily be contained in a rifle bullet and that would only be dangerous within a very few feet of the point of impact. He knew perfectly well what the main difficulties were but in his preliminary report he hazily outlined possibilities of overcoming them. Having put it in Berny did not have to wait long. Professor Holmes walked into his office one morning.
